


Danger

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Cunnilingus, Danger, Desire, Drawn To Each Other, F/F, Random Encounters, season 2 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: After rescuing Abigail from the fort, Eleanor shares a quiet moment with Miranda.





	Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BS Rarepair Week 2019

There is a danger here, a danger that Eleanor should be wary of, but she’s too exhilarated, too exhausted by what she’s done, too battered down by the thought of it, that she can’t look at it straight on. It’s too much to acknowledge right now.

Miranda eyes her over the girl in her arms. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.” Eleanor shrugs off her concern. It’s been so long since someone’s been concerned for. Someone other than a man, she amends. Someone where it’s true concern, and not an underlying, ulterior motive lurking there in the shadows.

“Sit down.” Miranda’s voice is firm, and for once Eleanor succumbs without resentment. She sinks down onto a bench, pressings her palms against the wood. She would do it again, but her hands are still shaking. The look in Vane’s eyes will haunt her for the rest of her life. She wonders if she’ll haunt him half as long.

Miranda takes the girl into a back room. She’s gone for some time. The girl needs her, Eleanor knows this. But for some reason she finds herself unable to move from the spot where Miranda commanded her to sit. Her limbs are curiously numb, the weariness stealing through her body has overtaken her mind as well. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, letting her breath struggle into a reasonable pace.

It’s nearly an hour later when Miranda returns to her. She pauses, smoothing her hands against her skirts as she takes in the sight of Eleanor slumped against the wall, her eyes half closed. Eleanor looks younger than her years, half leaning against the wall, taking what rest that she can in these few moments.

“Come with me.” She puts out her hand and Eleanor finds herself taking it, following her. 

Miranda leads her to a room in the back, closed off and still. A tidily made bed with fresh sheets is there.

“Sit down.” Miranda busies herself with a basin and pitcher, as Eleanor does. She brings the basin over, setting it on the dresser, and sits beside Eleanor. She dips the cloth into the cool water, bringing it up to wash Eleanor’s face.

“Shouldn’t you be with her? With Abigail?” Eleanor licks her lips tiredly, the effort to even recall the girl’s name had been nearly too much. “Surely she needs you.” The fresh sheets feel cool and inviting under her hands.

“She’s already asleep.” Miranda says, drawing the cloth over her face. “I’ll be there when she wakes.”

The cloth is soft upon Eleanor’s skin and she finds herself leaning into the touch. It’s soft and refreshing, and smells like fresh air and the sea. She breathes cleanly through it, wanting to sleep, but wanting more as well.

“Thank you.” Miranda says softly. “For doing what you did.”

Eleanor shrugs her shoulders. “It needed to be done.”

“Yes, it did, but most men wouldn’t have done it.” Miranda tells her.

A small smile crosses Eleanor’s lips. “Good thing I’m a woman then.”

“Yes, good thing.” Miranda agrees, smiling herself. Eleanor catches it and finds herself unable to look away. The hint of danger presses against her ribcage again, sharp in its reminder. It’s not safe to be close to someone, to anyone. People only betray you, or you will betray them. it’s simply the way it is. But as Eleanor watches Miranda, feels the careful touch of her hands, she wishes things were different, she wishes the danger were merely an invitation instead.

And then Miranda’s gaze shifts slightly, and Eleanor catches her breath.

The cloth is discarded as Miranda leans closer, her lips warm upon Eleanor’s skin.

Is Eleanor dreaming here? She doesn’t know. She has lost all concept of time, but she want this, wants Miranda as her body moves against Eleanor’s own, her hands spreading over Eleanor’s breasts, her lips hot on Eleanor’s belly, her tongue wicked and strong inside Eleanor’s cunt.

Their cries mingle together into silence as they shudder and drift into completion. This is the way of it too, with women, Eleanor thinks drowsily. She doesn’t have to reassure Miranda that it was good and that she was satisfied. Miranda knows that full well. She came too, there is no doubting or reassurance needed, and Eleanor treasures that knowledge.

She turns her head, her face resting against Miranda’s breast as she drifts towards sleep. Tonight at least, she will sleep peacefully.


End file.
